Mike, a sophomore at Central High School, rose at 5 a.m. to catch a bus to a History Day competition. He and his two partners worked on a documentary on the history of chess. He told me he was going to Pierre, but when I looked at his take-home sheet on the trip, it said Brookings.
One of those.
The boys have been leaving early and coming home late for months. With show choir, student congress, jazz band, debate, school play, orchestra and other assorted activities, it seems we are always groggy because right when we'd like to take a nap, someone calls needing to be picked up.
Last night it was RJ. We knew he'd be arriving home from Student Congress sometime in the evening. We had planned to eat out with our daughter and family though. Mike wanted to rest and stay home, so we asked him to call the cell phone when RJ arrived and needed to be picked up. Somehow, I missed the call, and when we left the restaurant and I checked the phone, it said 9 missed calls.
RJ was walking home in the dark from Central. I pictured him trying to cut across soccer fields and drowning in floodwaters.
But after a short search, we found him walking along the side of the road, carrying his violin in the dark.
When I mentioned to him later that Mike would be leaving the next day for History Day, he said what he always says: Every day is History Day. I guess he's right about that.
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